We're Engaged
by Imaginarivalued
Summary: Three years have passed since the case that started it all. Judy Hopps and Nick Wilde have been keeping their romantic relationship a secret from anyone and everyone. But after Nick proposes, word gets out that the faces of ZPD are getting hitched—and all of Zootopia, including Judy's parents, finds it odd. After all, how can a fox love a rabbit? Adopted story from Cozy Shadow.


**Chapter One:**

 **Q & A**

The city was an ocean of gold and silver and colors, stretching out as far as the eye could see, illuminating the night in a veritable aurora of lights. Combined with the bustling night life of a cosmopolis perpetually augmented by insomnia in full swing and it was truly a spectacle to behold.

Sadly he was a tad too busy _losing his metaphorical scat_ to fully appreciate it.

Nick Wilde took yet another hearty sip of water.

In place of his civilian attire, the fox was dressed to the nines, wearing a cedar colored suit, cufflinks and all. He tugged at the fabric of his lapel for a moment, readjusting his striped teal tie—the very first birthday gift he received from hers truly ever since those fateful days when they met—like it was an itch he couldn't stop scratching.

Growling under his breath in frustration, he looked up at the night sky and let loose a long, shaky breath. After a few moments, the fog of nerves thinned enough for his mind to focus and he leaned back into his seat, taking a much needed mental step back to take it all in.

Zootopia was the city that had snatched hope away from him at a young age, only to return it in the form of a bunny with an alarming level of spunk that no doubt fueled her heart and spirit that were at least triple her weight class on top of a respectable career that didn't have scamming mammals in the job description. In fine print, at least.

And now, it was about to bear witness to a special occasion, one that hopefully would be memorable as it was momentous between the two partners, Nick Wilde and Judy Hopps. They'd been more than just partners for two and a half years and counting.

It was anything but easy, however.

In Zootopia, a mammal could be anyone they wanted to be—the owner of an ice cream parlor, an artist, teacher, slimy politician, firefighter, professional gum chewer, and, of course, even a police officer—or at the very least be given a decent chance to show they had the makings and the drive, and wouldn't be berated based on something as irrelevant as their species.

The fox bit his bottom lip as he took stock of the nearly-empty glass in front of him. He had arrived thirty minutes early to psych himself up with a much needed pep talk.

 _People can be whoever they wanted to be, but not whoever they want to be with_ , Nick thought with distaste as he placed the glass on the table.

More than species, there was a grand divide between prey and predator. They lived as enemies throughout ancient history. But that was just that: ancient history. Things had changed when somewhere along the line they took the chance to live side by side instead of against each other, ultimately culminating in the founding of Zootopia. And yet, different species were still considered to be capable of being nothing more than friends, sometimes not even. For instance, one never saw a rabbit and a fox together, romantically or otherwise.

But, it had happened. A bunny and a fox became best of friends three years ago.

It had happened again two and a half years ago, where the bunny and the fox realized that they wanted to be more than friends, more than simple partners, and bonded in a relationship.

And it happened yet once more four weeks ago.

The moment in which Nick Wilde the fox discovered he kind of wanted to marry Judy Hopps the bunny.

This was how it went down:

The realization had 'dawned' on a fantastic Saturday morning; fantastic because it was one of those precious weekends where Judy hadn't filled the timeslots with anything (jogging, or cleaning the apartment, or volunteering at a soup kitchen, or participating in a charity event, or, vulpine gods forbid, working _Overtime_ ) other than sleeping in until either the need for food or the urge to pee dragged them out of bed.

They had woken up sprawled together on the couch—one of the many things that made the irreversible transition from _his or hers_ to _theirs_ —having dozed off watching a late night marathon of the Jason Boarne series.

She was lying on him, having crawled her way atop his chest to snuggle against him sometime during the night as she was wont to do. The morning rays flooded the apartment, casting all they touched in a golden warmth and nudging the slumbering mammals awake.

Two pairs of groggy eyes met. Thoughts of making a variation of the 'we really should stop meeting like this' quip crossed his mind, but the look in her eyes made him hold his tongue.

A stretch of silence had passed between them.

Then, she kissed him good morning, a chaste but firm press of the lips that lasted for a few seconds.

It had all became clear in that small fraction of eternity.

He wanted this every day. He wanted her good morning kisses. He wanted her good night kisses, too. He wanted all the kisses she had to offer. For all time. To wake beside her, to work together, to be partners in every conceivable capacity for the rest of their fluffy lives.

They pulled apart and stared at each other wordlessly with shining eyes, the normal flow of time returning.

She smiled at him then, eyes crinkled and dimples full. The kind of smile that overflowed with so much happiness and love that whatever residual cynicism he still harbored vaporized like a puddle under the sun and he had no choice but to respond in kind.

All in all, there were worse ways for a fox to realize that he was pathologically in love with a bunny. He had no complaints. Other than the fact he still wasn't married to Judy.

The only question was how badly did he want to be.

 _More-than-a-lifetime's-supply-of-blueberries_ _badly_.

Not the most inspiring answer he could think of at the top of his head, but he was kinda stupid in the head in love—as Finnick once so aptly put it.

There was no turning back at that point. _Once you go rabbit, there ain't no breaking that habit._

Finding the perfect moment to _tell her_ so, on the hand, seemed to be another matter.

Nick wasn't much of a cynic nowadays, and even saw the value of diving in headfirst in certain situations—a little reckless courage could go a long way. But some homegrown habits die hard and he decided to be a little creative in how he proposed.

Thus on the following Monday morning, he took it upon himself to arrive bearing the elixir of life known as Snarlbucks coffee for his girlfriend and their fellow coppers in arms with a show of what seemed to be spontaneous goodwill. What they didn't know was that he had prepared little surprises at the bottom of each cup. Messages like 'Howl you doing?' for Wolford, 'Caffeine high of the tiger' for Fangmeyer, and 'Hot coffee for a hot dancer' for Bogo (there will be hell to pay for that one but it was so worth it), to name a few.

'Marry me' was at the bottom of Judy's cup, of course, and he had waited with bated breath for the moment she would down her coffee and read those words.

The only problem was that she didn't even take a sip. The bunny had been roped into some sort of all herbal tea regimen by Fru Fru at the time and so had instead graciously given her cup to Clawhauser, who quickly put two and two together once he found the free prize at the bottom, so to speak, and _O. M. Goodness_ _this is wondertastic and I'm so sorry it didn't work out this time but I'm sure the next one will go flawlessly and you guys should get married in the spring when the sakura blossoms are blooming and don't worry I'll make sure to smooth it over with Judy if she gets curious about the messages you've been leaving everyone and oh can I help with the wedding please please please please_ —

Needlessly to say, Nick wasn't too thrilled about the plan falling short and having since gained a cheetah cheerleader instead of a bunny fiancé.

It wasn't all that bad, though. Clawhauser's enthusiasm could be a treat in the right dose and it did feel a little reassuring to have support from someone who wasn't Finnick.

The only aid the fennec fox had deigned to provide was to laugh in his face with an impressive quantity of spittle and a shoddy piece of advice: "Don't screw up."

Well, that, and: "Whatever you do, don't fart."

Nick scoffed. _As if_.

He tried in vain to wash down the anxiety alongside a couple of Gas-Z tablets with yet another hefty gulp of water.

Things continued its trip downhill after that initial botch like it was a one way trip. The plan involving the parking tickets didn't pan out, the scheme with the pawpsicles was a bust, and attempt number six resulted in a skunk thinking the fox was two-timing his bunny girlfriend and took it upon herself to show him the error of his ways. The misunderstanding had been resolved in minutes but the stink stain had taken much longer to clear.

Nick was running out of both ideas and fortitude. No plan survives contact with the enemy, but it was like Judy was shielded by some sort of anti-marriage proposal energy defense barrier made out of his misery and frustrations.

That was when Clawhauser carried his weight in gold by coming to the rescue with a masterfully crafted plan:

 _Just ask her over a romantic dinner_.

And that brought the scene to here.

The water had already been set out, so there was little need to ask for more—unless he managed to drink it all by the time his date arrived, which was fast becoming a possibility. He had ordered champagne and appetizers to be delivered to their table later, but food and refreshments were the last thing on the fox's mind, though.

He had a lot of time to think since his first failed coffee themed marriage proposal, to consider the possibilities and ramifications of their actions.

Unfortunately, once word got out about their future plans—if all finally went well tonight—then Zootopia would probably be rocked by another wave of excitement yet again. And word would get out, as the two police officers had become the faces of the Zootopia Police Department and were practically celebrities and household names. He could already picture the backlash from the most vocal naysayers and the media headlines that would assuredly result.

 _If those butt jerks had their way, we would never be friends, let alone see each other as anything more._ He narrowed his eyebrows at the table cloth. _The world probably can't see a rabbit and a fox being together. A part of Zootopia probably couldn't fathom it conceptually, and another couldn't see it physically working out._

At the beginning of their relationship, Nick and Judy had the same questions that the world would eventually have as it evolved. And little by little, the two partners made it work and came up with their own satisfactory answers.

Nick sighed as his deliberations sunk in. Instinct says something like this isn't possible—isn't anywhere near right. But instinct said a lot of things in his years of experience, and most of them were nonsense. His head and heart were saying the same thing now, that it was time to leave the cozy shadow and step into the light to be with Judy. For as long as she'd have him.

"Sorry, I'm late!"

He blinked out out of his reverie as Judy bounced into view and slid onto her chair. She wore a simple pink dress and adorned a bow around one of her ears. There were even light touches of makeup.

She looked stunning to him. Then again, he was stupid in the head in love with her so that was a given.

Nick cleared his throat lightly. "And here I thought rabbits were fast," he teased while tugging at his tie a bit more.

"Fast, not punctual," Judy shot back with a light laugh as she unfolded her napkin across in her lap. She beamed at him and like clockwork his heart rate picked up. "Thanks for asking me out here tonight. It's been awhile since we got to enjoy ourselves with a night out on the town like this. I hope you weren't waiting long."

"I'd wait as long as you need me to," he said and cringed internally at how much unintentional fervor colored his voice and the way Judy was staring at him with those wide, curious violet eyes of hers.

 _Don't get ahead of yourself. Save some for the actual proposal_.

Nick made a slight coughing sound as he leaned back against the chair in a show of nonchalance, despite his heart thundering in his ears and the small flush that threatened to surface across his cheeks.

The waiter, a lanky zebra, interrupted Judy just as she was about to respond, bringing with him a fancy food cart, a staple characteristic of the restaurant.

As Judy conversed with their waiter, Nick took a steady breath and began to mentally rehearse the game plan. Following the advice from both Finnick and Clawhauser, he wasn't going to use the 'pretend to despise the very notion of the institution of marriage and its affiliates to throw her off' ploy and keep it as simple and uncomplicated as possible. He was going to start off with some compliments, with a dash of that Nick Wilde flavor naturally, to get her to blush that adorable blush and smile that pretty smile of hers and ease her in for the 'So, we've been together for two years, six months, thirteen days and counting' talk, which will of course start to clue her in on his intentions, giving him to opening he needed to hop out of his seat, find his way next to her, get on one knee, pull out the ring, and…

Nick blinked. "Uh oh."

Where was that ring? Did he lose it somewhere while waiting for Judy? Keeping a smile on that muzzle of his so Judy wouldn't notice anything was awry, Nick scanned around himself as discreetly as possible.

It was supposed to be in the champagne, right? But a look towards the glasses told him it wasn't there. Oh crud, where could it be?

Nick began nodding along with whatever Judy was saying as he tried to remember where he told the waiter to place the ring.

In the soup? No, that was dumb. At least hopefully. With his current luck streak, she was liable to swallow it. He wanted the night to be memorable because he proposed and not for having to perform the Heimlynx maneuver and a visit to the ER.

Maybe the universe took pity on him and it was miraculously still in his pocket? Fat chance. A quick check led him to find them empty—save for a couple pieces of chewing gum and a receipt for the Gas-Z.

The fox was about to get up and excuse himself from the table in order to slink towards the back and do a little off-duty police work to figure out which of the kitchen staff he needed to figuratively throttle to solve the case of mysteriously disappearing engagement ring—

"Ow!" Nick heard Judy cry and his head snapped up instantly in her direction. "Did they roll a _rock_ into the dough or something? Just what did they shove in here—"

Judy went very still.

So did Nick.

Except his bladder chose that moment to sheepishly inform the rest of his body that it was feeling a little extended and that it would probably be a great idea to make a mad dash to the restroom.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

The dark streets were hushed in the manner not unlike a catacomb.

Two silhouettes moved within the quiet darkness as they traveled side by side down the street and up the stairs to the front entrance of an apartment unit. The smaller figure of the two climbed several steps before turning—now at eye-level—to face the other.

A measured silence passed between them before it was broken by a timid exchange of goodnights. A peck on the cheek, a lingering touch on the paw, a hesitant glance over the shoulder—thrice. Then, he was gone.

Moments later, the sound of jangling keys was followed by the creak of an unlocked door being pushed open. Instead of immediately shuffling in and flipping switches, she opted to stand just beyond the threshold, staring into the unlit interior.

Two years into her career and new life in Zootopia, Judy had, at the behest and help from family and friends, finally moved out of her proverbial elephant shoebox of an apartment and into a more spacious and accommodating living environment across town—a place to call her own that wasn't decades past its metaphysical expiration date. It was a move she would not come to regret in the slightest.

At the time, however, the decision to do so had been a difficult one to come to terms with. The prospect of change had felt a little daunting, which was a bit ironic considering how eagerly she had embraced life in the big city to begin with. Looking back now, Past Judy had it easy.

"Honey, I'm home," Present Judy said to the empty apartment and blanched immediately afterwards.

With a weary sigh, the bunny turned on the lights as she stepped in, gently shutting the door behind her before tossing her purse and keys onto the kitchen counter. She followed suit by planted herself on a stool, hunching forward to rest both head and arms over the cool counter surface.

Normally, she'd have a certain recurring guest stay over after a night out. As things were, the rabbit was resigned to be deprived of that routine and the warm companionship it entailed, and the apartment felt all the more cold and lonesome for it.

Even worse, she knew that despite how tired she was feeling sleep would be out of reach while the question continuously looping through her mind remained unaddressed.

Still, if she was going to be a stressed out ball of fluff she might as well be comfortable. Drawing whatever strength from within that allowed her to move, she relocated to the bedroom, not even bothering to swap out her evening outfit for her pajamas, then tossed herself onto the bed with the grace of a zombie swan.

After several minutes spent mindlessly staring at the shadowed ceiling, Judy pulled a velvet box out of her pocket and opened it, her heart infallibly starting to race at the sight of the contents.

Turning to the nightstand, purple eyes gingerly scrutinized the ring cast aglow under the spotlight of the lamp.

 _I never thought about marriage. Even with Nick in the picture._

She played with the cool metal resting in her paws, fumbling with the physical manifestation of the night's unanswered question.

 _I was so content with the way things were going that it never occurred to me how long we've been together_ — _how serious everything between us has gotten._

She clutched the ring to her chest and curled in on herself, as if the tiny object would fly out her paws if she didn't hold on tight enough.

It wasn't an easy decision.

But it was a simple question.

Judy reviewed the the night's event in her mindscape like snapshots of a photo reel:

Nick rambling. Stuttering. Excusing himself. Rushing to the bathroom. Rushing back. Realizing his fly was open. Zipping up. Dropping down on one knee. Rising back up. Grabbing a drink of water. Getting on his knee once more, then:

" _Um. So. Marry me?"_ An afterthought. " _If it's not too much trouble._ "

A blurt of what she felt was like a critical question: " _What, like right now?"_

They both looked like primitive deer caught in modern headlights.

" _Uh, later?"_

" _Later sounds good."_

Judy groaned and pulled her ears over her eyes, muttering 'cheese and crackers' over and over as she rolled around on the bed.

The same sort of painful-to-look-at awkwardness had then carried on through their trek back to her apartment, hovering over them like a bad joke overstaying its welcome.

Eventually, what felt like several lifetime's worth of mortifying embarrassment passed and Judy swept it under the rug and shoved it to the back of her mind as best she could. She rolled onto her back and held the ring aloft for critical inspection.

It was a simple question.

The answers came with complications, all sorts of troubles. But...

Slowly, a smile soft and across her features.

 _It wouldn't be any different than being anything you wanted to be—it's just being with anyone you wanted to be with. It's a right one deserves—and yet we have to fight for it._

The smile disappeared as the thought swarmed in her head.

 _We have to fight for the changes this world creates because people don't like new. They don't enjoy changes like this. They've accepted the written rules. They never thought to make new ones and add amendments._

The ring slipped easily onto her finger like it was meant to all along.

 _And if they don't like the idea of a rabbit and a fox as husband and wife, well, they better learn to change their opinion and just deal. _

_Besides…_

A smirk that could only be attributed to a certain fox's influences spread across Judy's features.

"It looks _good_ on me."

The stress and apprehension drained from her as though a physical thing and her shoulders felt lighter and her heart soared. The bunny hopped on the bed with a laugh, mattress squeaking as she bounced up and down in a spontaneous celebratory binky. When she finally settled down, she plucked the fox plushie—the very first birthday gift she received from his truly ever since those fateful days when they met—away from its bunny friends and hugged it to her chest, closing her eyes and allowing her body and mind to relax. Within minutes, the pull of slumber began to take hold. Snuggling into the blankets, thoughts of a certain foxy fiancé crossed her sleepy mind.

She could see him in her mind's eye: paws in his pockets, ears sagging, bushy fox tail swishing anxiously as he wandered the dark streets surrounding his den.

Deliberating on whether to call him, Judy decided against it. He would get his answer soon enough in the morning, when a new day dawned on the city of Zootopia and their lives.

For now, she'd let him sweat it out. It was only fair, after all.

Her teeth still hurt a little from biting into the ring when she had tried to eat the breadstick.

* * *

AN: So, that was the first chapter of my attempt to rework and eventually continue the original version of the story. I thought to try and add more comedic elements than before, while keeping the core intact. Hopefully I was somewhat successful. To those who are fans of the original (which most of you probably are), tell me what you think. If you think I'm making unnecessary changes and should cool my jets then I'll be sure to keep my grubby typing fingers and fever dreams to myself as much as possible until reaching the point of an altogether new chapter.


End file.
